My Name is Hugo Weasley and I Exist, Too
by insertcleverandwittytitlehere
Summary: Hugo feels like he's always in the shadow of his sister, ever since they were little. He doesn't mind, necessarily, though sometimes he thinks it goes too far. So when Rose shows up engaged to a typical Weasley-Potter gathering, Hugo must find a way to step forward and do what he needs to do.


**A/N:** This is Beater 2 of the Chudley Cannons checking in for Round 5 of Season 4 of the QLFC.

 **Prompts:** Cannons mystery box = Next-Gen; selected prompt = Character: Hugo Weasley; 3. (word) labyrinthine and 14. (color) cherry

 **Word Count (before A/N)** **:** 2,890 words

 **I am not J.K. This is not her work.**

 **Also, thank you to MaryandMerlin for beta-ing this fic for me. Enjoy!**

* * *

I've never been so nervous in all of my life. Never. Not when I was sorted into Gryffindor, not when I tried out for the house Quidditch team, not when I was made prefect, and certainly not when I got my Apparition license.

But now. _This._ This is nerve-wrecking beyond recognition.

It's summertime at the Burrow and it is pouring outside, which created an influx of people—everyone from my aunts and uncles to cousins and their significant others—to take up space within the house. I never usually bring an S.O. to these gatherings, because even I know it's overwhelming to meet this particular family; however I thought that today would be a good day to just finally let it happen.

So today the whole Weasley/Potter bunch will be meeting August, because no one has actually met August yet.

I'm the baby of the family. The very last Potter-Weasley to enter, and sequentially, to leave Hogwarts. Rose is two years older than me, and I thought the best year at school would be my sixth because she would be gone. But it was my seventh, once Lily and Louis had left too. I was able to just be me and not part of the sea of redheads.

I think that's why I was able to find August.

We graduated earlier this summer. I've taken up a job in the law department of the Ministry, like Mum. August is training to take over as potions professor come fall. We've been together for almost ten months now and friends for years, which is why I thought it was due time to introduce him to my large family.

I just wasn't counting on the rain and everyone being trapped inside. So I'm nervous; I've never brought anyone home before. I asked Mum if it would be okay if someone came, and she said she couldn't see why not, but check with Dad just in case. He said I could bring a whole Quidditch team and no one would notice at this point, since there are so many people in our family.

Either way, August is coming. I've been nursing a glass of water the past two hours waiting while my extended family navigates the labyrinthine home my grandparents live in. My hope is to just have him slip in without notice.

There's a pop outside and I feel my heart swell into my throat. Is it hot in here, or is it me? It must be me.

I rush over to the door, intent on intercepting his knock. Instead, the door comes whipping inward, nearly knocking me to the floor.

It's Rose.

Rose and I are very similar in some aspects. Outgoing, like Dad. A little bit rude too, and we talk with food in our mouths. We're also really into Quidditch.

Rose is loyal like Dad, almost to a fault. If Rose is on your side, she wouldn't ever leave you, even if you killed someone. We're both like Mum, as well, though Rose is naturally smart, but I got our mum's work ethic and studied hard to earn my grades. We both like to learn regardless of how.

But Rose always outshines me, ever since we were little. She doesn't mean to; but she does. Smart, pretty, athletic, outgoing. All things I could do and be, but she did and was them _first_. She didn't like being the product of two of the biggest war heroes the wizarding world has ever had. She didn't like the attention that Ron-and-Hermione-Weasley brought her. She especially didn't like when her own decisions and actions were attributed to someone else's personality traits. _You're so smart, you're just like Hermione. You're trying out for Quidditch? Just like Ron!_

But she's brilliant and outgoing and _outshines_ everyone, with her cherry-colored hair and cream-colored skin, and blue, blue eyes.

I can already see the excitement in those eyes, and I don't have to listen to what comes next to know that something big happened.

I'm more like Mum when it comes to announcing big things. I would have told my parents first, then the whole family at a much more appropriate time. Like when my little brother wasn't planning on coming out to his entire family.

But Rose doesn't know that, does she?

"Hello, everyone!" she shouts. Her greeting is met with various hellos from throughout the house. I can hear my Mum heading down the steps to come hug Rose. But Rose doesn't notice, because she's already showing off her shiny new engagement ring. "Guess what just happened!"

Of course, no one was surprised when Scorpius walked through the door behind her, his hands in his pockets, and a shy smile on his face.

Gran was all over the two of them in an instant. Mum made it down the steps and shouted, "Ron, get down here!"

"What is it?"

"Rose is here," Mum has tears in her eyes already.

"I said hello, Hermione," Dad shouts back.

"He's playing chess, isn't he?" Rose smirks. "Dad? I have something important to—"

"DID HE DO IT?" Now his feet hit the stairs and the house shakes as he makes his way down from his old bedroom.

Rose turns to Scorp. "He knew?"

Scorp shrugs, smiling. He's a quiet guy, poised, something of a wallflower. Rose, Al, and Scorp were best friends by the time I got to Hogwarts. Then, in Rose's fifth year, she and Scorp started dating. At first, our parents were wary, old rivalries and all, but Mum convinced Dad it wasn't the worst thing in the world. (Then Uncle Harry had to liken the relationship to a young-Ron-and-young-Draco, which set Dad off completely. But he's good now.)

"Do what?" It's Louis, still upstairs. "Uncle Ron? I can't promise I won't cheat!"

The pounding on the steps stops. "Oi! I've had Hermione charm those pieces. I'll know if you cheat."

Then he's down the stairs in a blink, grinning from ear to ear. His red hair has thinned out in recent years, but no greys yet. Mum's jealous.

"Congratulations, Rose," I tell her. Because I do mean it, even if I feel like my day has been upstaged. Dad hugs her next, and then the slew of Weasleys and Potters come to welcome the couple.

I slink back to the empty kitchen, where my glass of water awaits. I don't know why it is so important for August to come today of all days. I don't know why I thought I'd actually enjoy this in any way. Maybe if there wasn't any rain…

Sometimes it feels like the whole of my existence has been in the shadow of Rose. I don't blame her for that, but it's so damn hard not to feel a bit jealous sometimes. Everyone can just flock to her, bask in her light and be happy. But me? No one seems to notice me.

When we were at Hogwarts together, we made a deal to eat lunch every Thursday together. It became our thing. But it was never really just us. _Someone_ was always there—Lily, Louis, Scorp or Al—and any number of her Ravenclaw friends would show up too. I always felt like she overlooked the fact that the lunches she had insisted upon were all about her life and not about us.

So when all of my cousins left school, every last one, I was free to be Hugo. I like to read in the mornings instead of having breakfast. I ate a quick lunch most days so that I could head out to the pitch and practice. And during my free periods, I would walk the halls and look at the paintings, talking with some, but mostly just observing. Most of my free time went to August though.

August was in Slytherin. I really started to get to know him during Care of Magical Creatures in our third year at school. Then this past year, well, we decided to be more than friends. Boyfriends.

I've told him more than once that the term "boyfriend" sounds trivial and cliché. To me, it sounds something preteens use to label their crush. I wish that there was a word that existed for someone who means more than the word boyfriend implies.

He's like my best friend, and lover and ally and support system all in one. The first person to encourage me and the first person to call me out on my bullshit.

My boyfriend.

I sip the water, which isn't even cool anymore and isn't doing anything to calm me down.

"Hey, Hu," I look up. Mum. "Where's your friend?"

"He's—coming. My friend's coming," I say. But she heard the slip, because her eyebrow is perched up like an accent over her questioning face.

"August, right," she says. "Is she your year?"

I close my eyes. "Mum, if you want an answer, you should ask the question on your mind."

"Hm." I open my eyes again, only to see her sliding into the chair across from me. "Is he your year then?"

"Yes. He is."

She takes my hand from across the table. "If I had known your sister would be coming in here like that, I would have stopped it. Told her to wait, if that's what you would have preferred."

"I know," I smile, "and it's not her. I'm happy for her. I'm just—"

"Nervous?" Mum and I look toward the entranceway. Dad shrugs his shoulders, and I think my heart has completely deflated. He's the one I'm nervous about. Mostly, anyways. "I know this is bloody scary, kid. I had the benefit of loving my best friend. My family knew long before I did that this is where my life was headed."

He places a hand on Mum's shoulder.

"You're okay with it?" I ask. "With me?"

"Always, Hugo," Dad says. "I'm actually a little hurt you'd think I wouldn't be okay."

We make eye contact, me and my dad, and I'm overwhelmed by how dumb I am. My parents are freaking war heroes who saved the world driven by the power of love.

They're practically hippies. Free love and all that.

"I can't blame him," Mum says with a smirk. Which, I think, surprises the both of us. "I mean, look at the way you reacted to Rose and Scorp the first time."

"Yes," Dad begins to explain, "but _he's_ a Malfoy. August is not."

"Rose is going to be a Malfoy now," I say, which makes his eyes grow about three sizes bigger. He starts to splutter, turning a violent shade of red from the neck up, like he first did when he found out about the two of them.

Mum's laughing along with me, when we hear the door creak open again. A tan face peers in tentatively, sporting brown hair and purple eyes.

August.

The door gets pushed harder, revealing Rose beside him. "Hu, your friend's he—Dad? Why are you so red?"

"I'm not red!" His hand goes to the back of his neck. "I'm perfectly fine."

"What were you guys talking about in here?" Rose's eyebrows accent her face, just like Mum's do. "Everything okay?"

August hasn't moved, his eyes locked on me. He's tall, taller than me even, which puts him just above my dad's height. August has always been extremely patient. He's not the smartest, but he excels in what he loves. He's lean but toned, with long arms, perfect for snuggling into on top of the Ravenclaw Tower during a meteor shower.

Today he looks absolutely terrified.

"We were simply talking about Hugo's friend who is visiting," Mum adds. But then she gasps. "Bu-but that's not why your father is red!"

"What?" Rose says. And now I can see how this looks to August. I'm sitting with my parents, alone, on the day he's meeting them, and my father looks embarrassed and upset.

Crap. Crap crap crap crap crap. Can I curl up and die here, or would Mum chastise me for being rude for dying in front of my guest?

"He's red, because you're going to be a Malfoy," I state calmly, hoping August will breathe easier. But I don't think he gets it.

Rose rolls her eyes at our dad, "You didn't realize that when Scorp asked you for permission?"

"I did," Dad tries to defend. "I just didn't grasp it until now."

"Oh really?" she teases him.

Dad's about to respond, but something clicks inside my brain. Here I am on the opposite side of the room from my boyfriend, about to share with my family a milestone in my life, and somehow the conversation _still_ came back to Rose. Rose's life, Rose's love, Rose's future.

I know I was a part of that conversation switch, but still! I only did what everyone does: let Rose fall to the center, while I orbit around like the lost sibling. Heck, most people think Al is her brother with how close they are. Who's Hugo?

Hiding in the shadows, waiting for the world to move forward, so that he can be the protagonist of his own life.

I jump up before my dad and sister can go at it with a silly argument over silly problems and close the gap between myself and August, and I kiss him. Because I already know my parents are okay with it, and I just want Rose to see what it's like to be orbiting, if only for a little while. And also because it's been two weeks, and I've missed him _a lot_.

"Oh," I can hear Rose. But I don't care. My brain stopped functioning the moment I touched him. Little electrical pulses run from our connected lips down to my toes. But I have to focus. I pull back from August, "Hi."

He smiles back, "Hey."

"Mum, Dad," I turn back to my parents, "this is August."

"I have heard _many_ stories about you," Mum smiles.

"That's right," Dad says. "Ever since Care of Magical Creatures it's been 'August says this' and 'August believes that.'"

"Oh my God."

"Oh, relax, Hugo." Mum scolds. "Why don't you show August around."

"Yeah," I say, my embarrassment finally catching up to me. I'll do anything to get out of this room. Linking my hand in August's, I usher him out of the kitchen, where I can already hear Dad explaining to Rose how August is, in fact, my boyfriend. She's smiling like it's Christmas.

"They seem nice," August says.

"They're family," I respond. In the living room, we're met with staring eyes and a brief moment of silence. Then everyone starts to talk again. Gran approaches us first, then Lily, followed by a thousand other Weasleys.

"It's not as bad as you said it would be," August says to me later when we've finally gotten away from the crowd. We made our way up to my dad's old room, which has become another Muggle invention space for my grandfather. There's an old chessboard set up near the window from Dad and Louis's game earlier.

"It is bad though, because it's thousands of people."

"But it's all at once," August sits by the board. "When you meet my family, it'll be spread out over at least three visits."

"They don't all get together every other week?" I joke.

"Luckily, no," he laughs. I join him at the chessboard. He takes my hand in his, which still makes my stomach fill with butterflies all these months later. "I thought your Dad was upset about the whole gay thing when I got here, I was so nervous."

"I know, I gathered," I say with a squeeze. "But I was teasing him about Rose."

"Rose." August repeats. He knows how I feel about being second to her in almost everything. He usually tells me that I shouldn't worry about it, because in his book I'm first. He'll also remind me that I can still live my life without comparing my own skills to my sister. (See, that whole supports me and calls me out on my bullshit thing?)

"You know," he says, "I don't think many people asked her about her engagement once I got here…"

"Is it bad that I noticed that too?"

"Yes." He laughs, then adds, "But I don't think it's wrong. As long as the important part was you and not outdoing her."

"I don't want to outdo her. I just want to feel like people care about me too." I shrug. August leans across the chessboard and kisses me softly. When he sits back again, I add, "Okay. People obviously care."

I know I'm the one who feels like I'm outshined by Rose. I know no one else sees it that way, though I suspect Mum knows how I feel, considering she would have made Rose wait to say something about her and Scorp. Sometimes it just seems like I'm lost in all of these stories, having famous parents and hordes of successful relatives.

But right now, in my own world, I know that what makes me special and important are the things that I say and do. August keeps me grounded in that sense. So I lean into him, letting the sound of pattering rain and the feel of August drown out my insecurities.


End file.
